Girls Rip Each Other To Shreds Behind Smiles

I remember this girl I dated when I first moved to DC. She was one of those types that had trouble keeping female friends but collected male orbiters like stinger-less bee drones to honey. Perhaps she incited the jealousy of other women with her brazen sexuality, or perhaps she tried to make friends with women out of her social league. I wasn’t sure and I didn’t care, even though I had to put up with listening to her woeful stories of victimology.

I’ve learned many mythbusting realities about women over the years of loving them, but one of the most disappointing lessons I’ve learned is how threadbare, shallow and tenuous are their friendships with female peers. For all the jabbering they do amongst themselves, the bonds that hold girl friends together are a surprisingly superficial amalgam of Machiavellian maneuvering, parched politesse, feigned sympathy, self-absorbed clucking, and fickle loyalty. It’s as if female friendships exist only to serve the banal purpose of group cohesion and social climbing, in stark contrast with male friendships that can strengthen unencumbered by ulterior motives and which often require nothing more than the tacit assumption of “I’ve got your back”.

One time I took this girl to a party where female friends of mine would be in attendance. (About 1/3 of my friends are women, and 2/3s men. After 5pm, that ratio reverses.) She noticed one of the girls was flirty around me. I agreed that she probably was nursing a long-held #1 crush. Out of earshot, my date then proceeded to call this girl fat, and grabbed my hand to walk with me in front of the girl, ostensibly to provoke seething jealousy. I didn’t appreciate it. This was evidence that my date was a woman of poor character.

Some months later we broke up, and through intermediaries I learned that she had become good friends with the chubby girl she formerly ripped to pieces with a gleam in her eye. I wondered if she knew of her new friend’s less than complimentary opinion of her, or if it was all bitchiness under the bridge.

Gossip is a natural property of human nature and something in which almost everyone, men and women, indulge (though women to a far greater extent than men). It is probably an evolutionary outgrowth of human status hierarchies, and so isn’t going anywhere soon. For that reason, I’m generally bemused if I hear that friends are gossiping about me. It’s all part of doing business as a DNA carrying replicant. Nothing much to get worked up over. But there is a line crossed where gossip becomes corrupted and twisted by resentment and ill will; when it becomes less a feature of human social dynamics than a bug. The caustic whisperings and barely concealed snarls behind phoneyfemme smiles and exaggerated “Hiiiiiiii!!!”s that hit six different musical notes hide a dark, bitter soul. Invariably, it is women who are the shameless practitioners of this viciously psychological ego-feeding art. Occasionally, the poisoned opinions get out there in the ether like slimy tentacles, afflicting every social circle conversation with a brute manipulative face-saving veneer. But most of the time, the vaj vector of dirty gossip is skilled enough to keep her real feelings under wraps.

Not every girl is like this. I have dated girls, bless their hearts of gold, who had nothing but kind words to say about their girl friends behind closed doors. In fact, one of the key indicators that the girl you are dating is girlfriend material worthy of your non-penis time and attention is what she thinks of her friends when she has the opportunity to unload on them. Listen to what she says about her friends when it’s just you and her. This will give you tremendous insight into how she will treat you over the long haul.

To those girls who possess a depth of untarnished loyalty for their friends — in the middle of the night with the shades drawn and no one but the company of your conscience, you know who you are — don’t think for a minute that we men don’t notice your good character. You are a rare catch. Most women have no need for the virtue that makes you stand out…

Integrity.

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Dirty Photo Album

If I could give just one piece of advice to my hypothetical son, it would be this:

Never take women seriously.

If I could give him a second piece of advice, it would be this:

Make an indecent photo album of every girl you’ve ever banged.

“Trust me, son,” I will say, “when you’re in your dotage, and all you’ve got is your loving but completely asexual old wife, and the young women walking down the street have stopped returning your flirtations, you’ll thank me when you crack open your dusty dirty digital pics and videos to marvel at… and masturbate to… the fine ass you once tapped.”

“But dad,” he’ll argue, “I want to cherish their memories, not splooge on them. Anyhow, I can always turn to internet porn if I want to get off. In 50 years, it’ll probably be holographic.”

That’s when I’ll explain to him that the best way to cherish past loves is to keep their memories alive and fully expressed through the indomitable tumescence of his stiff cock. What an honor to bestow on a woman! Of all the women in the world… of all the readily available porn… it’s *your* naked pic from 30 years ago, dear love, I choose to stroke off to. And then I’ll remind him how much more satisfying porn is when the featured stars are you and one of your exes in the bloom of youth. Nothing brings back the flood of happy memories like a photo of an ex spread-eagled on the bed, her youthful meatflaps illuminated by the nightvision on your camera.

Given that everyone’s sexual future, once over a certain age, likely will be worse than their past, a dirty photo album of conquests from better days will help ease the pain of encroaching obsolescence. It will remind one of the prowess one once possessed, boosting the ego as well as stirring the loins. In my coffin, I would want my dirty photo album placed tenderly upon my chest, to accompany me to hell.

The dirty photo album also serves a purpose in the present. When you are in a rut, and your game has gone soft, a quick glance at the hotties you scored over the years will fortify your resolve, and invigorate you with the renewed confidence that what you once bedded, you could bed again.

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What The World Would Look Like With No Men

Fat lesbians.

LESBIANS are twice as likely as heterosexual women to be overweight or obese, which puts them at greater risk for obesity-related health problems and death, US researchers said.

Men keep women in check. Freed from the biological need to be visually attractive to men, women regress quickly to a state of blubbery bliss.

“The results of these studies indicate that lesbian women have a better body image than do heterosexual women,” they wrote.

Lesbians don’t care very much about looks in their partners, so bloating up like a fat cow won’t cause them psychic distress. When feminists (AKA radicalized man-hating lesbians) complain about the harm society does to a woman’s body self-image, what they are really lamenting is a world where men have sexual preferences. A feminist fantasy land is one where men have no preferences and women can pick and choose from whatever man she wants, while suffering no consequences from getting fat, old, or ugly.

Makeup, fashion, and staying in shape are evidence that women compete for the attention of men. When they opt out of the competition for men altogether, like lesbians have done, they stop bothering with those things. Analogously, gay men rarely bother with long sex-delayed courtships and promises of commitment.

Moral of the story: Women and men are judged for their worth in the sexual market. “Judge not lest ye be judged” is a lie to protect the feelings of the losers in life. Taking the high road will not save you from the judgement of others.

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I Got My First Craigslist Missed Connection

LXXXXXX XXXX Fri 10pm – m4m (staircase to sidewalk)

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Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-10-11, 9:16AM EDT

you walked down to the sidewalk from the west bldg, made eye contact, then went back inside your bldg….second staircase. you had a hat on and i was dog walking.

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I got excited until I noticed it was from a dude. 😯

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Open This Set

You see this six set across the room and start to walk toward them.

Let’s say you’re walking over right after they mugged for the club photographer, plastering themselves with phony smiles. How do you approach? Who do you address first? What do you say? What energy level do you bring?

You will have to observe a few things in the split seconds before you decide on your strategy. (In big all-girl sets, the best strategy is usually a formulation of divide and conquer. You want to isolate the hottest chick — your target —  and neutralize her ability to influence the entire group.) Notice their body language. Whose hands are draped over whose shoulders? Who’s laughing the loudest? Who’s dressed the sluttiest? Who’s holding an empty beer bottle? Who’s wearing black fingernail polish? Who looks like she is taken? Who’s the mother hen?

Go.

***

Bonus:

You’re standing by the bar in the above picture, at the event horizon of an attention whore black hole. You’ve an avid reader of the Chateau so you have a solid understanding of female psychology. What do you do next?

One option would be to backturn and ignore them. This situation is nigh hopeless. I would only turn around to order a beer, curtly saying “Excuse me” as I reached between one of the girl’s legs to grab my drink. Or I might make a big show of looking up the chunky girl’s dress with a huge shit eating grin on my face.

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I Reveal Myself

Don’t assume I’m easy just because I like to wear full body spandex.

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Beta Halloween Costumes

You deserve to be the laughingstock of lesser omegas if you do the “couples costume” thing.

Here’s another example of utterly contemptible betatude.

The only acceptable couples costumes are Pimp/Ho combos (substitute Hugh Hefner for a dash of class), or this:

Note that the beta costume is not the same as the GAY costume. If you wear a gay costume people will assume you prefer manflesh. If you wear a beta costume, people will assume your woman is cheating on you.

Here is an example of a GAY costume, so you know the difference between BETA and GAY (sometimes it’s a fine line):

Beta costumes are often boringly conventional. Stay away from vampires and mobsters unless you can pull them off really well (i.e., you actually look like a mobster in real life). Silly costumes like giant beer cans or condoms are beta. The only people laughing will be other betas, and they’ll be laughing at you, not with you.

Reader Matt wrote in with the following suggestion:

My thought is that a well thought-out costume is alpha as long as it’s understated. Oversized, obnoxiously fancy costumes are beta because they appear to be compensating for a lack of personality as well as revealing that too much effort was put in to their creation.

This is decent advice, and understated elegance will usually beat overstated buffoonery. But I wouldn’t write off fancy costumes. If you can craft a fancy costume so that every part fits into a greater whole and it doesn’t look like you duct taped it together in your basement, you can attract a lot of the good kind of female attention. For instance, an ostentatiously bedecked African King would be a cool costume.

Another option is the politically incorrect costume. These will score points with rebellious chicks who just wanted Daddy to hug them.

Alpha costumes meet one or more of the following criteria — they evoke mystery, danger, coolness, power, or violence. Practice your scowl and hit the weight room, and you can wear an alpha costume like this:

If you have a dog, you can boost your alpha score one whole point humiliating your pooch in this:

If you see these people around town on Halloween, there is a good chance it will be me.

My blade will be real. Plastic knock-offs are beta.

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